Immortals One-Shot Collection
by Librarianaire
Summary: Missing, contrived, and untold scenes from Tamora Pierce's "The Immortals Quartet" featuring Daine and Numair. Mostly from Numair's POV but will include other characters. Will include scenes from other works by Tamora Pierce in which Daine and Numair appear.
1. New Beginnings

_A/N: Hey there, FanFiction! Long time no see! Some of you may remember me as Ocean's Timbre. I haven't written anything since…2014?! Time sure does fly. You all know the gist—college, health issues, family matters, etc. Five years or so have passed in the blink of an eye. Anyway, I am back with a huge creative burst, not just for this fandom, so if you like my work, keep an eye open for more! I have a lot of stuff in the works. This particular one-shot follows the events of "Elder Brother," told from Numair's POV, as Qiom and Fadal journey to Tortall. This story is not beta'd, and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! I am always looking to improve as a writer. Enjoy!_

_Timeframe: _Wolf Speaker_/"Elder Brother"_

_Disclaimer: Everything you see here belongs to the genius that is Tamora Pierce. I am just playing with her beautiful creations, and do not profit from this in any way. Dialogue marked with an Asterix (*) is taken directly from the short story "Elder Brother," for continuity's sake._

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**Immortals One-Shot Collection**

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"'Numair says, if we go east to the sea and take a ship, we will come to his land. There many women are unveiled; they have respect and rights. He says, if we come, he will help us, because it is his fault I am a man.'"-Qiom, "Elder Brother"

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New Beginnings

Numair was surrounded by blackness. It was deep, all encompassing—flat and superficial while simultaneously an immeasurable infinity. The only other occupant of this swirling dense darkness stood before him.

The _tree_—the _man_—was tall, taller than even Numair, and dark. His slender limbs belied an immense strength. His skin was the color of tree bark, brown tinged with gray. Black curtains of hair, twig-like, framed his ovular, slender face, partially obscuring bright green-hazel eyes and a long nose.

Numair felt a surge of guilt rise within him at meeting that gaze. He wanted to desperately tear his eyes away from the immense sorrow and shock and confusion that he saw there. But he forced himself to meet the tree-man's bewildered eyes. _You did this to him. You must make it right_.

So, in speaking to the tree-man, he began to make amends. On the fringes of his gift, beyond the blackness, Numair felt a rustling, heard a voice. Daine was stirring.

"I am being called. Listen—"* As the tree-man named himself—_Qiom_—Numair gave him some parting instructions. Starting the process of ending the spell, Numair felt guilt surge within him once more as he met the pained eyes of Qiom, the man who was once a tree.

"Again, forgive me."* He said softly, his voice tight. He closed his eyes. Numair let the spell cease and the darkness swallow him up.

* * *

His mind and his Gift roared back into his body abruptly, causing his skin to crawl as power and awareness forced itself back into him with terrifying speed. He almost toppled out of his chair. It was not an easy magic, what he had just done. Harder still accounting for the distance—half a world away.

His senses were returning more slowly. Smell and taste came first. Inhaling through his mouth and nose, he could smell the healing poultices that he and Alanna had been making for Daine, taste the fresh herbs of the messes on his taste buds.

A slight ringing in his ears, Numair heard the distinct sound of blankets rustling against sheets, threads of cotton sliding over one another.

"Numair?" said a soft, groggy voice. _Daine_.

Shaking his head slightly and opening his eyes, Numair waited for a heartbeat as his vision returned. The pale stone of Dunlath Castle swam before his eyes, as did the fire in the hearth, the healer's worktable, a small window, and a girl encased in blankets in the bed beside his chair.

Daine struggled to sit up, forearms trembling as her blue-gray eyes looked blearily up at him, her mass of smoky brown curls tousled from sleep. Numair smiled softly in spite of himself, his dark eyes dancing. Propping the pillows up behind her with one large hand, Numair helped his friend and student to sit up.

"Who were you talking to?" Daine asked, running a hand through her curls and stifling a yawn.

Numair looked away, his gaze settling onto the crackling flames of the fire dispelling the crisp autumn chill. "Magelet, I have no idea what you're talking about. You must have been dreaming."

Still fogged with sleep, Daine's stormy eyes narrowed defiantly. "No, I wasn't dreaming. I woke up and you were sitting in your chair, eyes closed, glowing with your Gift, talking to someone."

Numair sighed and sat back, running a large hand through his raven locks, fingering his horsetail tiredly. It was no good. He could never lie to Daine or keep things from her—she could always see right through him, to his very core, he felt, sometimes. Not that he would ever lie to her. He just felt, in this instance, that the specificity of Qiom's existence, could wait until she was well from her shape-change. Furthermore, knowing his student as he did, he wanted to spare her any guilt she would feel over being the cause of Qiom's transformation. _Or until I can figure out how I feel about Tristan…and Qiom… and using a Word of Power._

Numair tried again, meeting her eyes with what he hoped was an innocent expression. "Very well. I was talking to myself."

The girl frowned, stubborn chin clenched in suspicion. "Mouse manure. I know what it sounds like when you talk to yourself. You do it often enough! And you certainly don't use your Gift to manage it."

Before Numair had a chance to respond, Daine blurted out, "Who's Qiom?"

Numair sighed again, reaching out to fluff her pillow once more, smiling ruefully. He was constantly amazed by her stubbornness, even after knowing her for over a year. He decided to change tactics.

"Another time. How do you feel?"

He watched, somewhat chagrined, as Daine backed down, sinking against her pillows, discomfort clouding her expression. "Like a mule kicked me in the chest."

Numair, dark eyes concerned, went to the fire and ladled a thick, brown-colored liquid from the pot stewing there into a goblet, returning to Daine's side. He handed her the steaming goblet.

"Alanna says you still need a few more days of bedrest before the effects wear off."

Noticing Daine's green expression at the sight and smell of the poultice, Numair smiled sympathetically. "Drink up, Magelet. Unpleasant it may be, but the sooner you drink it, the sooner you'll be up and about."

Sighing tiredly, Daine pinched her nose and drank the mess in three large gulps, coughing as Numair took the goblet from her slightly trembling hands. She sat back, eyelids already drooping with sleep.

"Numair?" she asked, voice quiet and small. Her petite hand grabbed his larger one in a loose grip.

"Yes, Daine?" Numair said, his eyes searching her pain-stricken face.

"Thanks for looking after me," she whispered. And then she was asleep.

Numair placed her small hand on the bed and smoothed her curls back from her face, smiling slightly. "Sleep well, Magelet."

The mage resumed his seat beside his young friend, watching her pained expression soften in sleep. Yes, it was as he told Qiom. He was needed elsewhere; here, with Daine. He may be in turmoil about what he had done to Qiom-and to Tristan, to some extent-but he would do it all again in a heartbeat, if he had to, he realized. He could never feel guilty about saving Daine's life. _No, never that_.

* * *

Numair paced the docks of Port Caynn restlessly. Hands clasped behind his back, long legs carrying his tall frame to-and-fro, the black-robe mage seemed oblivious to what was going on around him.

The typical inhabitants of the Port Caynn docks were giving the mage a wide berth, cutting their eyes to him warily, but otherwise going about their business. Fishmongers peddled the fresh catch of the day as fisherman tended to their lines and poles before setting off again out to sea. Harbor cats and dogs wove their way around the many legs of the crowd, eating whatever scraps of fish guts they could find. Young pickpockets trailed wealthy merchants towards their vessels, eyeing the merchant's guards and their heavy purses in the same faintly innocent expression.

Multitudes of people pressed in against one another—dark skinned Carthakis, yellow skinned Yamanis, and even the occasional Bazhir wove their way in and out of the crowds, to and from docked vessels. Men dressed in the sign and colors of the Tortallan navy, along with those donned in the black tunic of the Provost's guard, patrolled the docks with sharp eyes. Sea gulls cackled overhead, diving low over the fishmongers' stalls.

Numair took no notice of the goings-on, glancing occasionally out to sea, his expression unreadable. Only those close to the mage would be able to discern signs of his anxiety, evident in his dark eyes, the lines of his mouth, and the small black bolts of lightning that was his Gift shooting across his skin.

_I wish Daine were here_, Numair thought, not for the first time. _I could use her level-headedness right about now_. Numair was forced to tell Daine about Qiom during their return trip from Dunlath a little over a month ago. Fully healed from her shape change, Numair could not hide his dream conversations with Qiom every night. As he suspected, Daine felt just as responsible for Qiom's existence as he did, though he could still tell she was somewhat skeptical at the effects of his use of a Word of Power. _That's my Magelet_, Numair thought, momentarily shaken from his black mood and smiling wryly. The moment did not last, however, and the mage returned to his worried brooding and pacing of the wooden dock.

Daine had been eager to meet Qiom, when it had been decided that he and his companion, Fadal, would journey to Tortall. Numair was touched by her concern and eagerness, but kindly declined her company to receive the tree-man and his fellow traveler. This is something he had to do alone, he had told her, and she had understood.

Now, waiting anxiously for their arrival, Numair desperately wished Daine was here. What could he say, what could he do, to make it up to Qiom? To atone for altering his entire life, his very existence? What could he do to make amends? _Daine would know what to do and say_, he thought grimly, his attention caught by a docking fishing vessel. They were here. _Qiom_ was here.

Two figures departed from the docked, small fishing vessel, and Numair strode forward to meet them. The travelers looked the worse for wear. With only one pack between them, they wore mismatched, threadbare clothing, were overly thin, and Numair could see half healed bruises and wounds on the pair of them. He grimaced, feeling another stab of guilt and remorse at seeing them in person. He shook his head to rid himself of the feeling. _What's done is done. What matters now is how I choose to deal with the consequences._

Numair took a moment to study Qiom's companion, Fadal. In their nightly conversations, Qiom had been surprisingly less than forthcoming about his young friend, only telling Numair that Fadal was smart, resourceful, and kind. In discussing Fadal, Qiom had also asked Numair about women's rights within Tortall. Numair did not want to pry. The boy was dark and thin, his raven hair cut choppily in short and long tufts. He had bright, intelligent eyes.

Numair took a moment to look inside himself and examine Fadal with his Gift. He did not have the Sight, but upon examining Fadal, Numair had a sneaking suspicion and smiled ruefully. Fadal was not entirely what he seemed, it would appear. _Perhaps I should introduce him to Alanna_. Still tapped into his Gift, Numair was mildly interested to see his own magical fire flowing through Qiom's veins. _No surprise, since it was your spell that brought his transformation about_.

Upon reaching the two travelers, Numair hesitated nervously, then bowed deeply. "Welcome to Tortall, Qiom and Fadal. I trust you had a pleasant journey?"

Qiom and Fadal exchanged looks, slightly taken aback by the mage's formal attitude. "It was well enough," replied Fadal as Numair straightened from his bow and shook hands with each of them. The boy eyed Numair with a mixture of awe and distrust.

In shaking Numair's hand, Qiom spoke. "It is good to finally meet you in person, Numair." He spoke softly and slowly, as if he deliberated with each choice of word. Numair thought his breathy voice was reminiscent of rustling leaves and burrowing roots.

"Likewise," responded Numair in kind. "Now, no doubt you are both tired from your journey. I have taken the liberty of reserving some rooms in a nearby inn. If it is agreeable to you, we can spend the remainder of the day and night there, and set off for your new home in the morning."

Again, Qiom and Fadal exchanged looks. Numair noted, with some chagrin, that the young boy seemed to be the one in charge. After a moment, he merely nodded to Numair.

Numair smiled. "Excellent. If you'll follow me?"

With that, the three companions set off into the crowded depths of Port Caynn, in search of a warm meal, hot baths, and comfortable beds.

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The next morning, the odd group of travelers set off. Numair had taken the liberty of purchasing a pony and a long-legged gelding like his own for his new friends, both chosen carefully by Daine. In indicating that the horses were now theirs, Numair was amused by their reactions. _So much like Daine when she first arrived here._ Fadal, especially, protested at the wealth of the gift. Numair merely smiled until the boy calmed down and stroked his pony's nose with over-bright eyes.

The companion's journey would not take them far; their destination lay between Numair's own tower home and Pirate's Swoop, a handful of a days' ride from Port Caynn. As they rode, Numair entertained his new friends with the myths and legends surrounding Tortall, as well as answering their many questions. He even juggled, to their delight.

When they stopped to camp that night, Numair was relieved that Fadal seemed to be a competent hunter. He had brought camp provisions with him for their journey, but, much like with a sword, Numair was useless with a bow. On the rare occasions in which he did hunt, he was forced to use his Gift, a difficult task in and of itself, not to mention a waste of power.

That night, after their bellies were full, the travelers went to sleep. The moon was high in the dark night sky, shining brightly into the small clearing in which they had camped. Numair lay atop his bedroll, hands laced behind his head, as his companions slept on either side of the smoldering fire. Unable to sleep, Numair watched the dull smoke drift lazily up towards the stars; he studied the constellations.

Hearing a rustling sound, Numair turned his head towards Qiom who was tucked in his own bedroll beside him. Numair had thought the tree-man was asleep, but his bright, overly large, green-hazel eyes met Numair's own dark ones. They stared at one another in silence for a moment, the only sounds being that of Fadal's light snores, the crackling of the fire, and the inhabitants of the forest around them. For a moment, Numair deeply wished that Daine was with him, so much so that he ached.

Numair tore his gaze away from Qiom back to the stars. "I am deeply sorry, you know." He said as much in barely a whisper, but the pain was evident in his voice, which came across as strangled.

"I know it," whispered Qiom, after a moment, his voice just as soft, again reminding Numair of growing things.

"This Tristan," began Qiom, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "He was a bad man, yes?"

"Yes," said Numair, without hesitation.

On their journey, he had elaborated in more detail about the events of the Dunlath rebellion and that which drove him to take such drastic action. Qiom had been horrified when Numair described the devastating effects of Bloodrain on any surrounding life.

"And your Daine," continued Qiom, his gaze too directed towards the stars. "Was she worth it?"

Numair felt a wide smile stretch across his full lips. He had told many stories to Fadal and Qiom about Daine on their journey.

"Yes," he again admitted. "She is the kindest, most compassionate, stubborn, fierce, and intelligent person I know. I would die for her, and she for me. She is my student, my traveling companion, and my very best friend."

Silence stretched between mage and tree-man once more. Slowly, Qiom nodded, seeming satisfied with Numair's answer. "Good."

"She desperately wanted to meet you, you know," began Numair, lifting a finger to trace the constellation called The Cat in the night sky. "She wanted to thank you, and to apologize herself for your predicament. But I thought such a meeting would be best at another time."

Qiom nodded again, his expression unreadable. In the shadows of the night, soft lines, much like the grooves of tree bark, were pronounced on his face.

"I would like that," Qiom stated matter-of-factly.

The two fell again into silence. Numair's eyes began to grow heavy with sleep.

"Numair?" Qiom's query was as quiet as a breeze.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

* * *

The next day, the companions were close to their destination. Numair could see that both Fadal and Qiom were curious. All he had told them was that he was bringing them to visit his own tower home. That was not strictly true, however.

By mid-morning, Numair's tower came into view, and he pointed it out to his new friends. Instead of stopping, however, Numair led the travelers onwards towards Pirate's Swoop, skirting his tower.

"Where exactly are we going?" Asked Fadal soon afterwards, turning in the saddle to see Numair's tower now far behind them in the distance.

Numair turned in his seat on Spots and smiled reassuringly to both Qiom and Fadal. "You'll see. Not much further now."

Qiom and Fadal exchanged looks, expressions unreadable. It appeared that Qiom was to make this joint decision, being that he knew Numair better.

After a moment, Qiom nodded to him. "Lead on, then."

By midafternoon, the companions were deep in the hills and forests that separated Numair's tower from Pirate's Swoop and the surrounding villages.

At the edge of one such forest, Numair pulled Spots into a stop, his companions following suit on their own mounts. "Ah, here we are."

Dismounting, Numair held back some particularly low-hanging tree branches so his companions could follow him. Exiting the forest, he watched, nervously pleased, as Fadal and Qiom stopped in their tracks, stunned into silence, mouths hanging open.

In front of the trio lay acres of sapling apple trees. Row after row spanned the clearing that stretched on for miles. To their immediate right stood a large thatched cottage, fully stocked with fresh clothes, two straw beds, a large hearth, a sturdy kitchen table, an assortment of weapons and farm supplies, and food and other goods. There even stood a small bookshelf in one corner, fully stocked with some of Numair's extra tomes. A small stable and a chicken coop was nestled slightly behind, near the edge of the forest. To their left spanned more forest until a sharp drop-off of cliffs leading towards the ocean. Following these cliffs north, Pirate's Swoop was clearly visible.

In the stunned silence, Numair reached into his pocket and withdrew a bright green apple. Turning it this way and that, he starred at it intently, though he spoke directly to Qiom.

"I thought, perhaps, that you could tend it. The best apples in the realm come from Olau, of course, but I'm sure, given enough time, these will rival even Myles' orchards. I had to use a bit of my Gift to help these ones along so they would bear fruit for the harvest," said Numair, motioning towards the saplings with the apple he clutched, still focusing on the round fruit. In fact, once it had been decided that Qiom and Fadal would be coming to Tortall, Numair spent weeks preparing the orchard.

"I used to have an affinity for plants, you see. Back in Carthak, I had a master who taught me everything I know about herbs and gardens and such. But it wasn't something I could practically do once my gift became so powerful." Numair's dark eyes became unfocused, lost in thoughts and memories.

For a moment, he was silent. His eyes again focused intently on the apple, which he began to toss up and down in one hand. "Anyway, it took an inordinate amount of control on my part so as to not send the orchard up in flames. The Baron of Pirate's Swoop, George, who will oversee you, would not have appreciated that. The village is nearby, of course, as are some smaller ones, and you've seen my tower…." He trailed off.

Realizing that he had been rambling, Numair flushed slightly under his swarthy skin. Finally taking his gaze away from the apple, he stared at Qiom, dark eyes intent. "This was all I could think to give you, after—after what I'd done. A new beginning, perhaps."

Qiom remained silent, not having moved or changed position since stepping into the clearing, his face an unreadable mask. Fadal broke the uncomfortable silence.

"We don't want charity!" He said hotly, voice shaking with emotion, fists clenched at his sides.

Numair lifted his left palm up in supplication, tossing Fadal the apple deftly with his right. The boy caught it, still glaring at Numair.

"It isn't charity. I am simply repaying a debt. Besides, this orchard will be hard to maintain, even between the two of you. I am merely offering a home and work in exchange for Qiom's…transformation, so to speak. Isn't that how you both lived while journeying here, trading work for food, and the like?"

Fadal had nothing to say to that. His scowl softened as he brought the apple to his mouth, taking a crisp bite, returning his gaze back to the orchard, eyes hopeful.

Nervously, Numair turned his attention to Qiom, who had still not spoken. The tree-man was as still as a statue, green-hazel eyes boring into Numair's own. Suddenly, slow as sap, the widest, most genuine smile Numair had ever seen split Qiom's face, like a wide crack in bark. Ironically, the expression made him seem more human.

Still smiling, Qiom bowed low to Numair, shading his eyes in respect. "Thank you, Elder Brother!" he exclaimed quietly, using the honorific that Fadal had first taught him. "This is a good thing you have done!"

Numair visibly relaxed, slumping slightly. He hadn't realized how tense he had been. "Really?"

"Oh, yes!" responded Qiom, his eyes over-bright. Still smiling, his expression turned thoughtful. "I liked my life as a tree, it is true. Things were simpler. Humans are more complicated in the things they feel in their heartwood—their mind and their hearts. They are even cruel, at times. But being complicated does not mean that human life is bad. I have thought long and hard on this."

The tree-man turned away, inhaling the scent of apple blossoms being carried over on the breeze, a look of contentment filling his long, dark face. "Life as a tree was simple. But I am coming to believe that life as a human is richer."

Turning his still-smiling face from Numair to Fadal, Qiom laughed, really _laughed_, the sound like ripe apples. Plucking the apple core from Fadal's grip, he bent down and tenderly buried the fruit in the soft ground.

He stood and grasped mage and boy by the shoulder. "It is as you say Numair. A new beginning!"

END

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_A/N: So, what did you all think? I would love to hear your thoughts, though I will not be able to respond to every review. I haven't decided yet, but I may end up lumping my story _Inklings_ within this one-shot collection as well. If you haven't read that yet, I encourage you to check it out! I have many more ideas planned for this collection, but no regular update schedule, so keep an eye out and follow this story for updates. They additional one-shots may or may not be as long as this one turned out to be. Also, I am not one to abandon stories, so rest assured, I plan to return to _Catalyst_ very soon. Finally, I'm no good at coming up with titles. If any of you have suggestions for what I should call this collection, please let me know! _


	2. New Territory

_A/N: Hello again! I hope you all enjoyed the first one-shot. This takes place early on in their friendship, as they are both still becoming familiar with one another and developing their much-loved dynamic. Daine's self-esteem is still very low, and although Numair has an abundance of experience with women, I doubt he has very little experience of dealing with teenage girls *hint hint*! Be warned, awkwardness, friendship, and fluff ensue!_

_Timeframe: Between _Wild Magic_ and _Wolf Speaker

_Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Tamora Pierce's works. Just playing in her sandbox._

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**Immortals One-Shot Collection**

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"Love was well enough, but _marriage_? There was so much to consider. All her life she'd heard that no respectable man would marry Sarra's bastard [….]"—_The Realms of the Gods_

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New Territory

On the outskirts of Corus's royal forest, in a small clearing nestled within the tall trees, man and girl slept. A fire smoldered at the center of the pair's makeshift campsite, a dull and lazy tendril of smoke rising towards the starlit sky. It was very late. The large heads of a shaggy, steel gray mountain pony and a piebald horse drooped in slumber at the edge of the clearing. A warm late summer breeze with the scent of the coming fall rustled their manes and tails as they adjusted their footing in sleep.

On either side of the dying fire, wrapped in blankets and cushioned by bedrolls slept Daine and Numair. Daine's unruly curls poked out of the opening of her blankets, as did the slender snout of the pale blue dragon, Kitten, slit-pupiled eyes slightly open, a silver-clawed paw clutching one of her adoptive mother's curls loosely. Surrounding the girl and dragon was a family of foxes, also deeply asleep, all dead to the world.

The black robe mage Numair Salmalìn slept restlessly. If not by nature, but by habit, the lanky man was a light sleeper. He had to be, to last this long on the run from his one-time friend Ozorne, now Emperor Mage of Carthak. On this particular night, however, the mage's peaceful and deep slumber became disturbed for other reasons.

Three days prior, while having lessons on the palace grounds, Numair's student had sensed immortals at the fringes of her magical range. With the King's Own, palace and university mages, Queen's Riders, and regular army stretched thin at the moment due to raiding season, King Jonathan had agreed to let Daine and Numair investigate.

The pair had stumbled upon a nest of spidrens, which, between Daine's prowess with a bow and Numair's own magical Gift, they dealt with relatively easily. However, both mage and girl were too exhausted to return to the palace that day and had decided to make camp for the night and return to Corus in the morning.

As the forest nestling the two travelers continued to hum with night sounds, Numair stirred slightly in his bedroll, eyes moving behind closed lids. Asleep on his back, the mage's long nose punctured the night sky like a prow of a ship. Though he snored lightly, Numair felt himself in the stages between sleep and wakefulness, awareness slowly coming to him through his senses.

The night breeze wafted towards him, and Numair inhaled sharply. _There_. It was a smell that caused him to emerge from his deep sleep. The scent was cloying, tangy, and sour, giving Numair a sense of wrongness which made his stomach churn unpleasantly. He was all too familiar with _that_ particular scent. _Blood_.

Shocked into wakefulness, Numair shot out of his bedroll—getting tangled in his many blankets in the process—and stumbled his way around the fire towards Daine's side. Was she hurt? Why didn't she tell him? She seemed to deal with the spidrens earlier in the day easily enough. Had one perhaps gotten too close without either of them knowing?

Heart racing with worry, his mind still fogged with sleep, Numair grasped one of Daine's shoulders and shook her firmly awake. "Daine. _Daine_." Kitten chirped in protest.

The girl groaned and stirred, leaning back on her elbows and staring up at Numair blearily, rubbing a hand tiredly over her blue-grey eyes. "Numair…? What's going on?"

"I smelled blood." He replied, voice low and eyes dark with concern. "Are you hurt? Did one of the spidrens injure you?"

Daine stared at him, face twisted in confusion. "Blood?" she asked, non-plussed. "No, I'm fine, I—"

Numair could just make out Daine feeling around underneath her blankets, checking herself for injuries. In the light of the moon, Numair saw her stormy eyes change from exhausted and confused to embarrassed and irritated, now sharply awake. "Oh, for the love of-!"

In a flash, Daine threw off her blankets angrily, sending stunned foxes and an irate Kitten flying. Numair, who was crouched at the side of her bedroll, rocked back onto his heels, startled. He thought he heard her mumble something like "spidrens" and "lost track of time" and "monthlies" angrily under her breath as she rummaged through her pack for a fresh pair of breeches, loin cloth, and a roll of bandaging. She stalked off into the trees towards the nearby stream without another word.

At her mutterings, Numair had the unpleasant sensation of feeling his swarthy skin flush and pale at the same time. _This _was certainly new territory for him. For a moment, he was frozen where he was. After a beat, he composed himself and sighed, running a large hand through his sleep-tousled hair that hung to his shoulders.

He stood and glared at the horses, brown eyes dark, voice soft. "You _could_ have warned me."

Spots hung his head in shame, pawing the ground with a forehoof. Cloud, on the other hand, flattened her ears against her skull and pulled her lips away from her teeth, nickering softly at him. Numair scowled at her. The pony thought it was _funny_.

Numair heard a soft chirp and felt a light pressure on the sleeve of his nightshirt. He looked down. Kitten, blue scales tinged white in concern, was tugging his cuff gently, slit-pupiled eyes gazing up at him questioningly.

Sighing once more, Numair bent down and scooped the dragonette up, stroking her soft scales with one long finger. "It's alright, Kitten. Go back to sleep. One of us should, anyway."

Kitten's eyelids drooping in agreement, Numair deposited the young dragon in Daine's rumpled blankets, watching Kitten curl up. Sleep now evading him, Numair added kindling to the dying fire until it blazed once more. Next, he began preparing a pot of tea. That done, he lay down atop his bedroll and blankets, hands laced behind his head, deep in thought, awkwardness and embarrassment forgotten.

He stared at the stars in the darkened sky, listening for Daine's return. Tonight had certainly been a shock. Some of Numair's best friends were women, _a fact they never let me forget_, he mused wryly. And in spite of his friends being some of the most formidable warriors in the Eastern Lands, and for all that he was an intelligent man, it often slipped Numair's mind that they were _female_ in every sense of the word.

Numair shifted uncomfortably atop his blankets. Daine was nearing fourteen. His unwelcome discovery tonight reminded him that she was at child-bearing and marriageable age. Her mother had been a midwife and hedgewitch, he reminded himself. He was fairly confident that Daine knew what she was about. _He_ certainly wasn't going to elaborate on these things to her. _Still, perhaps I will mention something to Alanna and Onua when we return to Corus, just to be safe_.

Reddening at the prospects of _that_ conversation with his two female friends, Numair grimaced and shifted again. The fact that Daine—his young student and friend—was at marrying age unnerved him. Numair certainly knew that as early as thirteen and fourteen, young noblewomen were married off to cement alliances between families, sometimes with marriages arranged from birth and to men much older than they. Commoners Daine's age were indeed married to young men just starting out in life and beginning families. Many women in Daine's own scenario—commoners without family or dowry to recommend them—were even married to older widowers who needed someone to keep house, look after children, or tend a farm.

However, the thought of Daine marrying or bedding _anyone_ at this moment in time made Numair's blood boil. He clenched his teeth. He _wanted _those things for her eventually, he realized, but only if she wanted them as well. His young friend had already been through so much in her life and was still dealing with so much grief. She had been forced to grow up too fast, and she was still so unsure of herself. She deserved the chance to remain as young and carefree as possible with what innocence she had left.

_Not to mention her Wild Magic_, Numair mused grimly, taking a hand from behind his head to tug at this long nose. Daine was just coming to understand her ability and power. She—and Numair as well—still had so much to learn about the extent of her Wild Magic. From Numair's own experience with isolating and terrifying power, he knew it would take a special man to love Daine for all of herself. If she did not scare men away with her talents, men who were greedy and power hungry—_like Ozorne_, Numair thought blackly—would seek to take advantage of Daine for her abilities.

Sitting up abruptly, Numair began to stir the tea above the crackling fire, the vestiges of dawn just beginning to touch the clearing that served as their campsite. He felt his Gift prickle across his skin at the thought of someone like Ozorne coveting Daine. _No, that won't happen. Ever. I will see to that._

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Numair resumed stirring the tea, pausing only to tie his hair into its usual horsetail, returning to his thoughts at hand. Besides, he certainly remembered what _he_ was like at Daine's age. Men would want her for _other_ reasons, though perhaps less nefarious. Still, the thought made Numair shiver apprehensively. Daine didn't deserve someone like he was—_is_, he amended silently with a blush. She deserved someone better. And, Numair decided firmly, as being her friend, teacher, and the prominent male figure in her life, he would see to just that, when the time came.

Leaving the tea to simmer in the semi-darkness, Numair stood, stretched, tucked his nightshirt into his breeches, laced his collar, pulled on his boots, and began to tidy his bedroll. There was no going back to sleep now. Hearing approaching footsteps, Numair dropped his blankets and straightened. Daine, fingering her badger's claw nervously, walked out of the trees towards him.

"Numair, I—" she began, stormy eyes worried.

Numair simply shook his head and held up a hand, stopping her midsentence. "There's nothing to discuss Magelet, I assure you." He said gently, his full mouth stretched in a kind smile.

After a beat, he continued, grasping her shoulders, dark eyes concerned and intent on her face. "Are you in any pain? I could make you a poultice, if you like."

Taken aback slightly at his offer, Daine recovered and laughed softly, blue-grey eyes twinkling. She shook her shoulders from Numair's grip. "And drink one of _your_ messes? I think I'll take my chances!"

Overcome with a surge of protectiveness and fondness for his young student and friend, Numair enveloped Daine tightly in his arms, sweeping her into a bone crushing hug. Daine squeaked in surprise and protest.

After a moment, he set her down. "What was that for?" she asked, cheeks pink in embarrassment, grimacing as she rubbed her bruised arm.

Numair chuckled and tweaked her nose. He wasn't going to make her privy to his melancholy from earlier in the night. "Oh, no reason, Magelet. I thought it was high time you were due for a hug, is all."

Daine eyed him warily as she pulled on her boots but smiled shyly in return. "I suppose…. You're in a fair unusual mood this morning."

"Really? I like to think that I'm a _delight_ in the mornings!" Numair said loftily, placing a hand over his chest in mock hurt.

Daine just shook her head and snorted, "Player!" under her breath as she finished stowing their packs and roused a slumbering Kitten.

Downing their cups of tea quickly, the two travelers mounted their steeds as the sun rose just above the treetops. Looking forward to a warm breakfast at the palace, the companions set off with a new understanding between them.

END

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_A/N: Oh, Numair, if you only knew! This piece was fun to write. If you can't tell, I love writing from Numair's POV! The dynamic between them was so easy from the very beginning, but it's interesting to examine the differing roles they occupy in one another's lives as the books progress, and how they discover the depth of their relationship and the changing nature of their love for one another. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed. Reviews are appreciated and welcome, and stay tuned for an update!_


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